Contests
by TheRedPanda
Summary: Warning, DH spoilers! HPLV. Harry has just come back from the dead,in the final battle. Voldemort notices this and the only way Harry can escape is to appeal to The Dark Lord's ego and need for competition.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This has slight spoilers, and happens near the end of Deathly Hallows, after Harry was killed, talked to Dumbledore and come back to life. This is just a short introduction, but hopefully there'll be more to come.

"Parseltongue"

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Harry came back to life just to hear Voldemort shoo the death eaters away.

"You are even more beautiful while dead..." Voldemort's cold hand stroked Harry's cheek, causing Harry to flinch. Voldemort smirked and Harry felt the cold hands slide down to his throat.

"Open your eyes, potter, I know you're still alive." Harry opened one eye and looked up at Voldemort's gaunt face. Harry's hand moved to his chest, preparing to draw his wand. Oddly, Voldemort did nothing to stop him.

"Expelli-"

Harry's spell was cut off by Voldemort's lips. Harry went limp from shock.

"It seems no matter what I do I cannot kill you, but when I'm done with you, you'll wish I could..." Harry's eyes widened as Voldemort slipped off his robes. The pale, snake-like man leaned over Harry, his tongue flicking over Harry's ear while he whispered. "My death eaters are killing your friends right now. And while THEY die, I'll be taking EVERYTHING from you. First I took your parents, your friends, and lastly, your virginity."

"NO!" Harry squirmed like he never had before, putting everything into trying to escape Voldemort's naked body. But, Voldemort's strong hands held Harry down whilst undressing him.

"You should know what this forked tongue can do..." Harry couldn't help but blush as Voldemort kissed his neck. "I may have lost most of my soul, but I still have human desires, and I want you, Harry."

"Why?! I hate you, you hate me!" Harry was baffled.

"I cannot conquer you. You defeat me again and again, it intrigues me." Voldemort's lips slid down Harry's chest.

"nngh.. no... don't... please.." Tears shone in Harry's eyes, and in his desperation he remembered why he had the upper hand(at least he had according to Dumbledore.)

"I can't do it with someone who can't love me!" Harry blurted it out fast. It worked, as it startled Voldemort into shifting his weight of Harry for a fraction of a second, which was enough time for Harry to raise his wand arm. "Expelliarmus!"

Voldemort was sent flying into a tree. He sat there, smirking at Harry. Harry, however, hadn't noticed as he was too busy trying to put his clothes back on. He was caught with his trousers half way up and cut off by Voldemort's cold, cutting voice. "You DO know I am still deadly without my wand, Potter?"

Harry stood frozen and just nodded slightly.

"So do not move," Harry smirked and pointed at his half-naked body, "Fine, pull up your pants. But I am curious, tell me why you think I would care if I do not have consent? That was the entire point, to break you, destroy you, and corrupt you."

"But...I...But," Another idea came to Harry, "Isn't that rather simple? I thought the great Tom Riddle," Voldemort flinched slightly at that, "would want more of a challenge."

The Dark Lord sat silently, tossing the ideas around in his head. "Well I DO want my victory over you to be grand. What challenge do you have in mind?" Harry internally smirked. Everything would now go according to plan. He somehow just knew Voldemort would attempt the challenge, no matter how impossible it was.

"You have to try and get me to fall in love with you. If you lose, you give me nagini, the final horcrux." Harry smirked viciously at the dark lord.

"And if I win?" Voldemort's face was blank, although inside his head his mind was rolling thoughts around in a maelstrom.

"I let you kill me." Harry grinned when he saw his nemisis' non-existant brows rise up. Harry would never lose this; he knew it. The dark lord would lose, and give Harry the upper hand. If Harry was correct, the dark lord would be extremely confident, even in his romancing skills. So much so, that he'd believe himself irresitable.

Harry was right. Voldemort stood up and picked up his robes, merely slinging them over his broad shoulder, much like a muggle might a leather jacket. Sauntering over to Harry, he grabbed the younger boy's hand, and holding it tenderly in his own, kissed the top of his hand. The older wizard smirked as he noticed a faint blush on Harry's cheeks. "_I accept_," Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue.


	2. Chapter 2

Second chapter already! Thanks for the reviews, I didn't expect to get any so soon.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Voldemort, and all other characters belong to J.K. Rowling

Chapter Two, negotiations

Harry stepped out of the clearing, Voldemort's robe slung over his shoulders much like a shawl. "Why can't you just wear it yourself?" Harry hissed. "You're going to walk out into the battle stark naked?" The Dark Lord only smirked in reply.

They walked into the chaos and Harry pulled out his wand. Voldemort put out a hand to stop him. "Don't worry little one, I'll stop them." _Little one?_Voldemort was taking this much too seriously.

Suddenly there was a loud bang, and the battle stopped as everyone looked at the source, Voldemort. "I propose a ceasefire." The Dark Lord's deep voice rung out loudly over the battlefield. "How about we negotiate?"

The remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix sat around the dinky fire. Voldemort sat there as well, with Harry wedged in between the two parties.

McGonagall (check spelling) was the first to speak. "Why? Why do you propose this ceasefire?" She looked worn from the battle, but had no serious injuries.

"So that both our sides can recuperate and regain our strength. I suggest the ceasefire last between two weeks and a month. Of course, there _will_ be conditions." Voldemort smirked.

"What kind of conditions?" Arthur Weasley piped in.

"That I bring Harry with me, to make sure he doesn't continue his part in the war during the ceasefire..." Voldemort's grin widened at the horrified looks of his enemies, and Harry was vaguely disgusted at how much _enjoyment_ the older wizard was getting out of this. "Of course I promise not to hurt him during this time."

"How can we trust you?!" Molly shouted hysterically.

"Harry will stay at a private cottage, away from my Death Eaters. He will keep his wand, and once a week members of the Order can check on him. Is that fair enough?" The members of the order looked at each other hesitantly, and looked at the large number of wounded and hesitantly nodded. "Good. Now if you'll excuse me and Potter, we will be leaving."

Voldemort didn't wait for them to excuse him, but picked up Harry in his arms bridal style (Harry felt repulsed by being held against Voldemort's chest, even if the man HAD slipped on his own robes). With a twist they were gone.

They had apparated to a rocky beach on the seashore. Up ahead of them was a twisting, thin path that cut through the fog. Distantly, Harry could see a small cottage. Voldemort put Harry down, but offered him his hand. Harry didn't accept it.

They trudged along in relative silence, with only the crashing of the waves on the shore breaking Harry's train of thoughts. He hadn't thought this far ahead into the plan. Now he was going to be alone, in a small house, with his most hated enemy; a disgusting shell of a man who killed his parents; a strong man with equally strong hands... Harry shook the last thought out of his head. The apparition must have messed with his thoughts, somehow.

Harry tripped, the momentum carrying him forward into Voldemort's back. In the shock of it the dark lord didn't have time to brace himself and was carried down as well, and his face crunched into the rocky shore. Harry's eyes widened as his scar burned and he felt a pulse of anger from it.

"You BUMBLING IDIOT!" The Dark Lord shouted. "How DARE you?!" His face was bloody from the fall. The dark wizard pulled out his wand. "I'll make you pay, I swear I will..." Harry couldn't take it... It was too much anger, too much hate. He blacked out.

Harry woke up to gentle softness all around him. He was warm, and felt safe. Someone's hand was stroking through his hair. Where was he? What had happened?

"_Ssh, my little one. I'm sorry I was angry. It'll be alright,"_ The Dark Lord hissed in parseltongue. Parseltongue? Harry suddenly remembered what had happened.

Opening his eyes, Harry saw the Dark Lord's face scrunched up ridiculously. Harry couldn't quite place the emotion on it, as he had only seen anger, rage, hate, etcetera on the older wizard's snake-like face. "Ya'know," Harry croaked, "I could tell what you were feeling a lot better if you had a nose."

Voldemort's mouth twitched open awkwardly. Was that a smile? Yes, Harry thought it was. A bit pathetic, but still a smile.

"I do have some things to discuss with you, Harry." Voldemort's voice was like dark chocolate, bitter but smooth. "I believe we should open up our connection more. So that I know if you're cheating at the contest." Harry had been kind of expecting that, but still didn't like the thought of his privacy being invaded. He relented, letting Voldemort into his mind.

**//Good. Now Harry, do you have anything that you want to ask me?//**

**//Why don't you just take a peek around for yourself?//** Harry's tone was malicious. "But yes, I do. How will my friends check up on me?"

"Lucius will give them a port key." Voldemort touched at his wounded face and sighed. "You really should be more careful. But that doesn't matter right now. Now we need dinner."

Harry looked at him, bemused. "I'm in bed, you make it." Harry was amused even more at Voldemort's struggling face. It was kind of cute, the Dark Lord, he-who-must-not-be-named being so awkward over a simple thing such as dinner.

"I-I..." Voldemort grappled with his words, trying to make them sound less pathetic than they were, "I can't. I don't cook, and I didn't bother to bring any house elves. They're all busy. So you must do it. Besides, I was the one who was injured."

"But you made me faint! You just have a few scratches; I'm much too weak to cook." Harry smirked at the revelation. The Dark Lord had to rely on others to make his meals.

"Fine. I'll do it." Voldemort walked out, slamming the door behind him. "But don't expect me to bring any to you!"

Harry couldn't help but giggle. He would see all his nemises' weak points. Harry definitely didn't want to miss the spectacular mess that must be going on in the kitchen, and pushed his self up out of bed, groaning. He was terribly sore and stiff. For a little cottage it sure was cold.

Harry decided it wasn't just the temperature, but the atmosphere. Everything was to the bare minimum. There were blank wood walls, a night stand and a plain wood wardrobe. Even the bed sheets were a dull gray. Harry supposed that the Dark Lord's elegance didn't extend to others.

The door opened with a creak, and the hallway was a little less bare, with occasionally portraits hanging on the walls and a dark green rug trailing its way down the stairs. Carefully making his way down them, Harry found they opened into a large sitting room, which actually looked fairly cozy. It had a large window, and a merry fireplace that was crackling loudly. A few sofas and chairs littered the room, while bookcases filled to the brim lined the walls.

Making his way through a small dining room, Harry located the kitchen. He stood in the doorway, watching Voldemort rushing around the kitchen. On the stove eggs were hissing away, and menacing black smoke rose up from the toaster, and the Dark Lord was setting some rather undercooked bacon on the counter.

"I see you've finally decided to join me?" Voldemort looked at Harry, perfectly aware of ALL the connotations he had put into that sentence.

"For dinner... I suppose. Although you aren't going to try and kill me are you? You promised you wouldn't." Harry choked and started laughing. The Dark Lord lifted one nude brow quizzically and looked down at the bacon he was holding and shrugged.

"You wanted me to cook."

Harry sighed and went back into the dining room, and sat at the rather small table. Voldemort brought in the bacon, eggs and toast. Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust. The toast was blackened, and the eggs were filled with bits of shell.

After their meal, Harry did the dishes (if only so the Dark Lord didn't break them) and started heading back up to his room. Voldemort stopped him, and kissed him with his lipless mouth on the forehead.

"_Goodnight..."_ Voldemort hissed into his ear.

Harry repressed a shudder at the surprisingly warm breath and ran up the stairs.


End file.
